


Space Out

by safety_dancer



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, mentions of Conner Kent and Jack Drake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4830356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim fears he's losing it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Out

Hey, Alfred,” Bruce said upon entering the kitchen. “where’s Tim?”   
Alfred glanced at him, something like pain in his eyes at the mention of his third “grandson”. Ever since the deaths of his friends, and now his father, Tim had been reclusive, not even coming down to eat. He stayed in his room, in the dark silence. It hurt Bruce’s heart to see his son hurting so much. He’d already been through more than anybody should have to experience.   
“Would you like me to take something up to him?” he asked, and Alfred nodded gratefully, handing him a tray filled with light breakfast foods. Bruce made for Tim’s bedroom, quietly knocking on the door.   
“Tim?” he called, unsure if he’d even get an answer. There were several moments of silence, then the click of the lock sounded, and the door opened the tiniest bit, Tim peeking through the slit. When he saw Bruce, he pulled the door open the rest of the way.   
Bruce sucked in a breath at the sight of his son. Tim’s normally bright blue eyes were sunken, surrounded with dark bags. His clothes hung off his body, blanket barely staying on his thin shoulders.   
“Tim,” Bruce breathed, setting the tray on the nightstand, then standing in front of him. He took his son into his arms, almost wincing at the feather light weight. Tim really needed to begin eating again. His grief was wearing away at him, and Bruce is surprised he hadn’t gotten sick yet. He finally stepped back, trying to find something, anything to say, but words failed him.   
Tim didn’t even try for a smile, simply tugged the blanket tighter around himself, not looking at Bruce.   
“Hey, B,” he whispered, voice rough, possibly from crying. He looked at the breakfast tray, but didn’t reach out for any of the food. He took a deep breath, then suddenly stiffened, staring into space. Bruce glanced to the area, but saw nothing that could’ve drawn his attention.   
Tears filled Tim’s eyes, and Bruce didn’t think twice when he enveloped him in another tight hug, feeling the complete sadness radiating off his child, until Tim pushed him away.   
“I’ll be fine, Bruce. Tell Alfred thanks for the food.” it was a dismissal, and the last thing Bruce wanted was to leave, but he understood the need for solitude. He would come back in thirty minutes, he promised himself as he shut the door.   
Rubbing a hand over his face, he headed back downstairs, shaking his head at Alfred’s questioning look. The man heaved a sigh, but nodded his understanding.   
~~~  
Tim stared at the food. His stomach growled, but he really didn’t feel like eating. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill all day.   
Something moved in his periphery, and he jerked his head in that direction. There was his father, looking at him with a gentle smile. Tim blinked, and the man was gone. He shook his head. He needed more sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, nightmares flashed in his mind.   
Tim, something whispered. Tim held his breath. That was Conner’s voice, but Conner…Conner was gone. He was imagining things.   
“No!” he slapped his hands over his ears, the tears finally falling, dripping from his trembling chin. “Not real. Not real.”   
A choked sob escaped Tim’s throat as soon as Bruce reopened the door. He hadn’t been able to stay away, knowing his son was in such pain. He froze in his steps when he heard that sound, then knelt in front of Tim, gently wiping the tears with his thumb. Tim opened his eyes, and slowly took his hands from his ears, promptly flinging them around Bruce. His chest heaved, harsh breaths becoming sobs, and Bruce just held him.   
“I’ve got you, Tim,” he whispered, running a comforting hand through Tim’s hair. “I’ve got you.”   
And he always would.   
Always.


End file.
